


Bad Opinions About Everything

by angelheadedhipster



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Puck Soup RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: ESPNNNNNNN, Fluff, Lozo sigh, M/M, cable TV, cool so this is the first fic in this fandom EVER, eat me i'm greg wyshynski, no idea how to do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 23:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster
Summary: So y’know how that thing happens, where you just, THINK that something COULD be a ship but you’re like...nah, and then you have a conversation or two about it and now you’re really thinking about it, and your friends are sending you stuff about it, and you start looking at canon differently, like things are clicking differently. And now you can’t NOT see it. And you start to think they’ve got to be doing it on purpose, right? And now you are ruined.Anyway, here’s the dumb one shot not-quite-sexy fic that goes along with that thought process. No one asked for this, and here it is.PLEASE do not show this to them, oh god.Greg and Dave, if you are reading this 1) please don’t and 2) please accept this as the sincere compliment it was intended as. You’ve made it! I’m sorry!Oh and thanks to the usual suspects for beta and edit work <3





	Bad Opinions About Everything

**Author's Note:**

> So y’know how that thing happens, where you just, THINK that something COULD be a ship but you’re like...nah, and then you have a conversation or two about it and now you’re really thinking about it, and your friends are sending you stuff about it, and you start looking at canon differently, like things are clicking differently. And now you can’t NOT see it. And you start to think they’ve got to be doing it on purpose, right? And now you are ruined.
> 
> Anyway, here’s the dumb one shot not-quite-sexy fic that goes along with that thought process. No one asked for this, and here it is.
> 
> PLEASE do not show this to them, oh god.  
> Greg and Dave, if you are reading this 1) please don’t and 2) please accept this as the sincere compliment it was intended as. You’ve made it! I’m sorry!
> 
> Oh and thanks to the usual suspects for beta and edit work <3

“Ooh, _Men in Black_?”

“Are you kidding?” Dave responds. The disdain in his voice is mostly because he has a part to play here; in reality, he kind of likes _Men in Black._ Or doesn’t hate it, at least.  

“I love _Men in Black_ ,” Greg says, slightly petulant, but he keeps flicking through the channel guide. His head slowly tips sideways, resting more against Dave’s shoulder.

“You would,” Dave says, but he’s mostly looking down at his phone, watching the TV screen out of the corner of his eye.

“Aliens! A talking pug! That chick with the hair! What’s not to like?” Greg says, but he isn’t really paying attention to the argument, eyes focused on the screen. “ _Below Deck Mediterranean_?”

Dave starts to squint at the screen and then decides its not worth it. “Below Deck Mediterranean” is  probably a reality show, something that Greg blames on Rubie but that Dave is quite sure Greg watches on his own. It’s not worth responding to that suggestion.

Greg swivels his head to look up at Dave, eyes big and brown under his lashes. He laughs at Dave’s expression, which means Dave’s face says enough.

“Ok, yeah, not that,” Greg says. “Fair enough.”

Greg keeps flicking through the options on the screen, and Dave lets his brain shut off a little bit. He doesn’t really care what they watch, if anything at all. They cranked the AC in the hotel room, and sweat is cooling on his skin. He feels pleasantly wrung out, from travelling and seeing people and then doing things and from a whole day of being as funny at Greg as he can possibly be. Also, from the orgasms. The bed is comfortable, and Greg is a warm weight pressed against him. Maybe he’ll go to sleep.

 _“Law & Order _?”

“ _SVU_ , or the boring original one?”

“The original.”

“Nah.”

“Ok, then,” Greg says. “Uh, something called “Treasure Quest: Snake Island’?”

Dave can _feel_ Greg’s eyebrows going up, knows that his face has that conspiratorial _‘Get a load of THIS’_ look.

“What could that possibly be,” Dave deadpans.

“I know! Is the island a snake, or are there snakes _on_ the island, and what’s the-”

“No.”

Greg heaves a sigh out, and flops down onto his own pillow, removing his head from Dave’s shoulder. “Ok, I don’t know if you are being contrary tonight just for the sake of being contrary, or if you actually have bad opinions about _everything_.”

Dave looks down at him, flat on his back out on the bed, hair trailing backwards off his forehead. “Ok, when you say, ‘eat me, I’m Greg Wyshynksi _’_ while naked, and I object, that’s not a bad opinion, buddy. That’s just a fact.”

Greg makes a face, but the corner of his mouth is twitching up. “Fine, y’know what? No TV, you win.” He tosses the remote towards his feet, though the channel guide is still up on the screen. “We’re just gonna lie here in the afterglow. Asshole.”

“Dude.”

“Maybe we’re gonna to lie here and have a _moment_.”

“A moment,” Dave says. “Ugh, that’s so gross.”

“Yeah, man, it is,” Greg says, and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks like he could be a practicing to be a mummy, lying flat on his back, naked, with his arms crossed on his chest. “Deal with it, a moment is happening.”

“Whatever,” Dave says, as he shifts downs slightly, splays out more comfortably, leg crossing over Greg’s at the ankle. “I can’t believe you need this sappy shit, you know I love you, you’re just being obtuse for no reason.”

It doesn’t register as he says it, but then Greg doesn’t answer and he looks over and -

“Oh my god,” Dave mutters, “I should not have said that.”

Greg’s eyebrows are three inches above where they should be. He has gleeful smile on his face, and he’s pointing, straight up from where he’s lying on the bed, a finger in Dave’s face. “You said that! You said it, you said it first!”

“No, I-”

“You said it!”

“I meant “love,” like, “I love this song, man!”

“NO!” Greg exclaims. “You mean, ‘love’ like “I _love_ a Double Gordita Cheesy Crunch.”

“Oh, you mean then I hate myself four hours later?” Dave grumbles.

Greg is laughing, wheezy and delighted. “Exactly, baby!”

Dave rolls his eyes, and Greg sits up, twisting to face him, cross legged and still naked on the bed. “This is great,” he says. “Come on,” and he puts his hands up, palms out and fingers spread.

“I am not high fiving you about your _moment_ , you tool,” Dave says. “That’s so gay.”

“Ok, first of all,” Greg sits up slightly straighter, his hands still in the air. “This is a high ten, obviously.” He wiggles all ten fingers. “Secondly, homophobic slurs are not welcome here, especially from someone who’s dick was in my mouth, like, fifteen minutes ago.”

Dave’s face is doing that thing it does around Greg a lot, where his eyes are rolling even as the corners of his lips are twitching into a grin, and he can’t help any of it.

“Thirdly,” Greg continues, and his eyes meet Dave’s. “Thirdly, I love you, too, obviously. I’ve based an entire revenue stream on how much I like to make you laugh.”

Dave bites his lip, and he wants to look away but he doesn’t.

“And fourthly,” Greg continues without missing a beat, but his cheeks are slightly pinker now, “Do you want to get drinks with Dellow, I told him we’d text him later tonight.”

He stops talking, and looks at his hands, finally clapping them together.

“See, that’s a high five,” Dave says.

“Only because you made me do it myself!” Greg responds. “Left me hanging. Love, my ass.”

“High fiving yourself is kind of masturbatory, don’t you think?” Dave asks.

“Auto-high-fiveio,” Greg says, and grins.

Dave groans. “Four hours, I said? Before I start hating myself?”

“Yeah, it’s barely been twenty minutes,” Greg says, and snickers. “Although, I’d be willing to reset the clock on that. If you’re up for it. We can blow off Dellow.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Dave looks at him. He looks at the ceiling, looks at the TV screen, still an endless scroll of reality TV and bad movies. He sighs, but his mouth is still twitching, wanting to grin, maybe more than grin.

“Ok,” Dave says, and leans forward. He puts a hand on Greg’s cheek, stroking down as he brings his mouth close to his ear, and whispers, “I don’t want to talk about Roman Polak anymore, anyway,” and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> PS if this is posted in the wrong "fandom tag" yall just let me know plz! I'm doing my best here and I am sorry for everything I choose to do and be


End file.
